


Take Away My Pain

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Series: Google's Voice [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Dark is only mentioned, Fudging how robots and repairs work bc I'm bad at technology, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Robots, The hurt happened in the last fic here's all the comfort, android repairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: After Dark's violent reaction to a minor slip-up, Google is in desperate need of repairs. Dr. Iplier and Bing have to work to piece him together.
Series: Google's Voice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563097
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Take Away My Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This will not make any sense without reading Give Me a Voice, so check that out before reading this.

Google was unable to move from the ground, staying where Dark had left him, studying his own destroyed voice box. He carefully felt around the edges of the hole in his throat; it was a relatively smooth tear at least. Google had no idea what Dark had done with the skin and endoskeleton that he had torn to get to the voice box, so Google’s repairs would require welding new metal over the voice box, along with a skin graft. His scanners analyzed his destroyed voice box, finding that it was completely unsalvageable. His core continued whirring at a high pitch, the emergency signal trying to summon someone to help him. He’d probably have to drag himself to his workshop to get spare parts before going to the clinic, it was doubtful anyone would be coming here today. 

Google started trying to get himself up, it seemed as though his processors were responding very slowly, still overwhelmed from what Dark had done. Google had almost managed to drag himself to a nearby table, thinking it would be easier to pull himself up than to stand without support when the door to the studio opened. Google’s core increased the volume of the emergency signal, trying to summon whoever it was in his direction. 

“Is someone there?” It was Bim, he must have been coming to grab something from his work. Bim rounded the set wall that was blocking Google from sight, the show host jumping back and shrieking when he saw Google properly. Bim ran over to him, once recovered from his scare, grabbing his arm and helping him stand, keeping Google’s arm slung over his shoulder.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” Bim asks, openly gaping as he stares into Google’s throat. Google’s core whimpers, the only sort of response he can give without his voice box. “Is that where your speakers or whatever were?”

Google nods, limping as Bim tried to help him walk to the door of the studio. Google’s processors weren’t working quickly enough for his legs to cooperate with his attempts at walking. Bim grunted as Google unintentionally put more weight on him, stumbling under the sudden additional pressure. 

“Shit, Google, I’m sorry, but I can’t get you to the clinic. Let’s just get you to that interview chair, and I’ll go get help, okay?” Google nods weakly in response to Bim’s question, trying his hardest to not put any more weight on Bim. Bim slid him off of his shoulder onto the chair, leaving Google slumped in a slightly uncomfortable position. Google couldn’t blame the guy; he was made of metal. It was impressive Bim managed to drag him this far in the first place. “I’ll be right back, I promise,”

Bim sprints out of the studio, probably going to seek the aid of Dr. Iplier, maybe grab another ego or two to carry him to the clinic. Google closed out all of the warnings flashing in his vision- he was more than aware that he was damaged, the signals weren’t doing anything to help that situation. In a moment of clarity, he hoped that he wasn’t getting his blood on the interview set, but he was distracted by the door to the studio opening, Bim rushing in, followed by Dr. Iplier and Bing. 

Bing, while he could be annoying, was the right choice in this situation. They were made by different companies, but their builds were near identical, so Bing would actually be helpful in making repairs. Also, Google could _talk_ to Bing- not actually, but their eyes were designed with a feature to assist in nonverbal communication, a way for androids to speak to each other without bothering their owners. 

“What the hell happened to him?” Dr. Iplier demanded, facing Bim as Bing went and helped Google to stand.

“I have no idea, I came in to grab some paperwork and found him collapsed on the floor with his throat ripped out. I managed to get him sitting, but knew I couldn’t make it to the clinic, he could barely walk,”

“Shock response,” Bing pipes up, shrugging when Dr. Iplier and Bim look at him in confusion. “Humans go into shock, yeah? For us, our processors slow down to protect us from causing more damage. Google’s in a state of full-blown shock, dudes,”

“Let’s just get him to the clinic, we’ll figure out what to do from there. I hope he has spares of whatever has been damaged,” Dr. Iplier sighs as he looks at the gaping hole in Google’s throat.

“I asked if it was his speakers or whatever lets him speak, and he nodded,” Bim explains, trailing after the doctor as they start leaving the studio. Bing has no trouble supporting Google, he’s about the same weight and is designed to lift at least three times his mass. It’s slow-moving with Google barely able to walk, but Bing seems to be genuinely patient for once in his life.

“It’s definitely his voice box that’s gone, mine is in the same spot,” Bing says, his glasses flaring with light, probably Bing scanning the injury. The doctor nods, then says that he’ll go and prepare the clinic and some supplies since he couldn’t help with moving Google. Bim said he’d get out of their way, and left as well, leaving Bing alone to slowly move Google to the clinic. After a full five minutes, they’ve finally made it halfway down the studio hallway, and Bing suddenly huffs in impatience.

“Sorry, Google, I know you won’t like this,” Bing preemptively apologizes, Google turning his head to look at Bing in confusion. Bing ducks down, bracing his arm behind Google’s knees and swiftly lifting him into a bridal style carry. Google releases a puff of air, sounding almost like a hiss, and he struggles slightly in protest of the treatment. 

“Google, stop it. Dude, it’s gonna take an hour to get to the clinic at your speed, and we gotta get you fixed up. So, suck it up for five minutes,” Bing lectures Google, ignoring Google’s deep frown as he carries him through the halls of the office. Google is grateful they don’t run into any other egos, he doesn’t need anyone to see him in this pitiful state. Dr. Iplier is laying tools out next to one of the clinic’s beds, nodding at Bing when he comes into the room. Bing carefully lays Google on the bed, immediately moving to strap Google’s limbs down.

Google’s core starts to hum in a warning, and Google thrashes as much as he can in his slowed down state. His eyes flicker rapidly, telling Bing to stop and let him go. Bing hums in sympathy but just continues until all limbs are secure. 

“It’s this or using your command, and I’m not gonna do that to you. We can’t have you moving around while attaching your box,” Bing explains, soothingly stroking Google’s hair. Google’s eyes flicker, telling Bing about how much pain he was in, with Bing nodding and muttering comfort until Dr. Iplier was finished setting up. 

“Bing, can you run diagnostics?” Dr. Iplier asks, pulling on gloves and putting on his surgical mask. Bing takes off his glasses, eyes flaring as he scans Google for all damages.

“The only damage is to his throat. His skin and endoskeleton were ripped open, and the voice box was removed. The removal was clean, no damage to the connecting wires and the edges of the skeleton and skin injuries are pretty clean too. He’s going to need a replacement voice box and will need the metal skeleton and synthetic skin replaced to protect the box,” Bing gives his report, Google’s eyes flashing to tell him that his self-diagnostic report said the same thing. “Where do you keep your spares? I can grab them and check that they’re operating before we patch you up,”

Google’s eyes flicker a few times, giving Bing the drawers to find his spare parts, and telling him not to poke around his stuff. Bing sticks his tongue out before leaving to grab the parts Google needed.

Dr. Iplier studied the opening in Google’s throat while Bing was gone, noticing which wires weren’t attached to anything along with checking that he actually had the right tools to help the repairs. Bing came back in quickly, carrying a shiny new voice box and some metal and synthetic skin to repair the layers of protection for his sensitive inner workings. 

“Bing, I’ll need you to talk me through this,” Dr. Iplier says, carefully picking up the new voice box. Bing adjusts his glasses, they glow as he projects something onto them, probably the scan of Google’s anatomy. Google listens as Bing instructs Dr. Iplier on which attachments go where, and how to secure and actually connect them to the voice box. His body spasms a few times, strapping him down was really the best choice, unable to help but try and get away from the source of the pain without a command forcing him to hold still. Finally, after an hour of Dr. Iplier delicately moving his wires and working on reattaching everything, his voice box is online again, and a quick diagnostic scan reports that it’s fully functioning.

“Google, could you say something?” Dr. Iplier asks, turning to drop his used tools on the nearby tray. 

“Hello,” Google says, and he’s relieved to hear his own voice, that smooth purr that he valued so much.

“Thank f###,” Bing sighs, his safe search feature masking the explicative. 

“Fuck,” Google says, out loud, relieved to hear his own voice in working order. Also, he still takes smug satisfaction in being able to curse when Bing couldn’t. Google had offered to help Bing turn safe search off is he wanted, but Bing never took up the offer.

“I’d slap you for that if you weren’t half-dead,” Bing grumbles, pouting slightly. 

“I’m so glad that worked, you have no idea,” Dr. Iplier rubbed his head a bit, sighing in exhaustion from the extensive work. “The endoskeleton and skin repairs can just be welded, right?”

“Endoskeleton can be welded, but if you cut the extra skin to the right shape, it will graft itself,” Google explains, not wanting the doctor to melt his skin off with a blowtorch.

“Alright. Let’s get this last part done with,” Dr. Iplier turns to grab the blowtorch and some metal, already cut to fit the hole. It only takes a few minutes before the endoskeleton is repaired. It isn’t the most aesthetically pleasing repair, but, fortunately, it wouldn’t be visible once the skin was repaired. He then cuts the spare skin into the right shape, carefully placing it over the exposed metal. The skin flared blue at the connecting edges, fading into thin white scars outlining the new flesh.

“Are those permanent?” Dr. Iplier asks, studying the scars with fascination.

“They’ll fade in a few days,” Google explains, running a final diagnostic, fortunately finding no remaining issues, other than the fact that his shock response was still running. He frowned slightly, that wasn’t good. It would likely require a forced reset to deactivate the response. “Dr. Iplier, could you please give Bing and me a few minutes?”

Dr. Iplier looks surprised, but shrugs and nods. “I need to grab something to eat anyways. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,”

The doctor leaves the room quickly, eager for a break after performing the extensive repairs. 

“Could you unstrap me now, Bing?” Google asks dryly, frowning at the bonds. 

“Oh, totally, I’m sorry about that, Googs. You know how sensitive the throat area is,” Bing rapidly apologizes as he hurries to unstrap Google.

“Yes, I’m well aware of the area’s sensitivity,” Google shudders at the memory of Dark’s fingers breaking through the endoskeleton.

“Google… what happened to you?” Bing asks quietly as he finishes unstrapping Google’s last arm.

Google sighs deeply but knows he should explain. “Darkiplier was dissatisfied by my attitude and some work I had done, and showed that dissatisfaction by tearing my throat open and pulling out my voice box,” 

Bing’s mouth drops open in shock. “What the… I mean, how did he..?”

“My user command,” Bing flinches at Google’s response, knowing how much the other android hated the command being used on him. “And, I hate to say it, but my shock response is still running. I need a forced reset to shut it down,”

“A forced reset? As in, you need to be ordered to have a reset?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means. It’s highly likely that I will react violently when I awaken from the forced reset, due to the trauma of the situation with Darkiplier. I need you to use my command to make me reset, and then be prepared to stop me with force if I don’t calm down shortly after awakening,” Google was trying to remain calm and objective while telling Bing what needed to be done. Still, his voice trembled as he realized he was _asking_ for someone to use his command.

“Hey, Google, you can trust me. Or, I can get someone else to give the command, I won’t be offended, dude,” Bing smiled brightly at Google, quickly calming him down. Bing, while often incredibly annoying and insufferable to deal with, was also probably the only ego Google could trust to not abuse his command. 

“I trust you, Bing. And I apologize in advance if I injure you,”

“It’s all good, dude! Just try and relax, you’ll be yourself in just a minute,” Google nods slightly, shutting his eyes and waiting for the inevitable. “OK Google, full system reset,”

Google’s body violently tenses before all functions shut down, leaving him as limp as a doll. He jerks awake abruptly, shouting and swinging his fist to hit the closest thing. 

That thing is Bing, who grabs Google’s hand a millisecond before it connects with his chest, holding it still while Google recovered his senses.

“Suh dude, you have a good nap?” Bing questions, teasing smile on his face.

Google glowers at him, but he can’t hold the expression too long. “Thank you,” he says, entirely earnest for once.

“It’s no problem. I hope I can count on you to respect my user command if this sort of thing ever happens to me,” Bing waves Google’s thanks off casually before suddenly bouncing in his seat. “Googs, you remember what we were talking about earlier? You still wanna come to hang out while I skate?”

Google smiles as he recalls their earlier discussion on Bing’s “totally rad” new skate tricks. He claims he can actually do the tricks while standing on his board now. Of course, immediately after that was when Dark came-

His system suddenly stopped playing his memory feed the second that Dark started to talk to him. That was odd.

“Googs?” Bing questions, drawing Google’s attention back to the present.

“My apologies. I’d love to see your new tricks,” Bing smiles at Google’s answer, quickly grabbing his hand and dragging him outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Ending is a little open ended because I may play around with continuing this. Also I kept thinking of the repairs section from FNAF VR while writing this... I don't know how robots work. 
> 
> (Check me out on tumblr, @d-ama-ien)


End file.
